


Birthday Blues

by Louise_SPN



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Depression, F/M, Oral Sex, Protective Dean Winchester, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, age gap, plus size reader, self hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louise_SPN/pseuds/Louise_SPN
Summary: Y/N is turning 23, although she does not have any happy feelings about it at all. Hunting and feelings of self hate are building up and they all come spilling out in front of Dean.





	Birthday Blues

**Author's Note:**

> 2 part fic. A lot of insecurities and angst in the first chapter. 2nd chapter will contain some heavy smut, hope the first chapter is enjoyed!  
> TRIGGER WARNING: Self Hate, Depressive Thoughts, Self Body Shaming

Birthday’s until now had always been ignored. A pointless celebration of another shit year is how you’d seen it for the longest time. The day had only ever seemed to drag on unless you’d spent the day in bed, alone, sleeping. 

At the age of 22 you already felt like an old lady. Bad back, insomnia and a grumpy attitude to match. Being dragged into the life of a hunter a few years ago had really knocked hell out of your already damaged psyche. The constant death that surrounded the job could make anyone feel like shit, but it was almost soul destroying for you.

Your 23rd birthday was only an hour away and you couldn’t help but wish time would stop. Staring at the clock as it just ticks past 11pm, you inwardly sigh. You feel the thrumming excitement of the eldest Winchester who was sitting next to you at the map table. His fingertips tapping wildly on the surface, a grin on his face as he listed off all the bars he planned on dragging you and Sam to tomorrow. He only stopped talking for seconds at a time to gulp down his beer before quickly restarting his speech. 

That had always been something you found so incredibly admirable about Dean Winchester. How he managed, despite his heartache and loss, to have one of the most childlike and carefree faces when he felt happy or excited. Although he never exactly deals with his bad feelings, he didn’t let them consume him every breathing second and there’s nothing you loved more than seeing him smile. 

There was that word again. Love. It had been scratching at the inside of your throat and ready to burst out of your mouth for a long time now. You could fucking curse Dean Winchester for being the asshole that you just had to go fall in love with.

It didn’t make it better that you knew, despite his excitement the night was going to be a lot of crap. Not for him, not for Sam. They’d eventually find themselves occupied in a beautiful woman who shot them flirty eyes across the bar. The type of lady who oozed charisma and charm, who was either in athlete form or was curvy. But in the right way. The attractive curvy. Where she had a thick set of hips but substituted the stretch marks for smooth, tanned skin. A woman with full chest but a full chest that was perky without any scars or blemishes.

You can’t help the sigh that puffs out between your lips this time, and Dean immediately stops speaking to look at you in concern and something that almost looks like embarrassment.

“Uhhh...Sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to go on for that long.” He uttered, hand scratching the back of his neck and his face turning the slightest shade of pink. 

What?   
You glance back at the clock and find it is now 12:12am. You meet Dean’s eyes again and he offers you a sheepish smile.   
You feel fucking terrible. He was so happy and excited and you’d not only ignored him because you were stuck in your own pathetic head, you’d also made him feel bad for something that didn’t even matter.

He stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. A slither of skin above his belt peeking out as he did so. He walked round to stand behind you as you continued to stare at the table in sadness. You feel his chin rest on top of your head as his lips part in the smallest, “Happy Birthday Sweetheart”.

You’re not able to stop the warm fat tears that roll down from your eyes, and you stand suddenly causing Dean to let out a surprised “oof”. You turn towards the exit where your room lies but before you can move he grips your arm and turns you to him.

“What the hell? I said I was sorry Y/N. It’s not like I forgot what day it was, it’s only been like 15 min - Wait what’s wrong?” His annoyance turns to concern when you meet his eyes and can’t hold back the shaky sob.

He pulls you to his chest and whispers positive words although they’re jumbled by his confusion and worry. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad Dean, I promise. I promise, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sighing at you. I’m sorry.” You gasp out between breaths, somewhere in the back of your mind you realise you utterly ridiculous you’re being. He’s going to think you’ve fucking cracked, send you off to some mental institution for having a breakdown out of nowhere.  
You still continue spewing nonsense none the less, because apparently your mouth is not linked to the somewhat well functioning part of your brain. 

“I’m so fucking sorry Dean. I’ve had enough of this shit. I feel so bad all the time, I don’t know what to do anymore. Everyone keeps getting hurt because of me. I’m too fucking fat, I can’t keep up with you guys. I’m not smart, I’m so bad at research. I don’t know why you guys even keep me around, I’m literally so useless. I don’t know why I’m even saying this, I’m sorry. I sound pathetic, just forget I even said anything.”

You go silent and the only sound now is breathing. Yours erratic and shaky and Deans deep and heavy. You chance a look up at him through your wet eyelashes and he looks furious. You mutter more apologies and try to rip your arm from his grip but he stands his ground until you quiet again.

“You’re not fucking serious right now Y/N.” He says, voice hoarse and tight. You realise that it did not sound like a question at all. Apologising again he sighs loudly and tells you to shut up. You barely hear him tell you to go to your room as he releases your arm from his grip as you’re already pacing in that direction. You don’t hear his heavy footsteps following you because of the rushing sound in your ears. You feel like you’re going to be sick, you stop just inside the door to your room when you finally feel his presence still behind you as he steps in and closes the door. His arms lightly pushing you to sit on the bed as he joins you.

“You’re so wrong, you know that?” He whispers, all anger gone. You shake your head and breathe in a shaky gasp when he pulls you flush to his side, your face smooshed to his chest as he strokes your back lightly.

“When we first met you on that Wendigo hunt in Arizona, I thought then and there that you were one of the best hunters I’d ever seen work. You killed that freaky thing effortlessly like swatting a fly, better than me, better than Sam ever has. I was watching helplessly hung upside down before you came bursting in. And then when you spoke I thought I was gonna pass out, you hadn’t looked at us yet and you were swearing and shouting about burning your damn hand. I thought you were the most badass, funny women I’d ever seen in my life and I still think that.” 

His words hit you hard, all though there is still a part of you that thinks he’s just saying it to be nice-

“Not to mention how hot you looked. Storming in and saving my ass. I’m not even gonna lie I might have been upside down but when you came in not all the blood was running to my head you know.”

You laugh, loudly and with anger. Because what an absolute asshole. You pour your heart out with insecurities and he thinks that joking about how ugly you are is funny.

“Get the fuck out of my room Dean.”


End file.
